


Too Fierce (The "This Fierceness" Remix)

by kelly_chambliss



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: F/F, Post-Endgame, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-24
Updated: 2016-07-24
Packaged: 2018-07-26 11:14:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7572049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kelly_chambliss/pseuds/kelly_chambliss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kathryn Janeway and Seven of Nine, five years after Voyager's return.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Fierce (The "This Fierceness" Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [aabbey](https://archiveofourown.org/users/aabbey/gifts).



> I enjoyed writing for you, Aabbey! I admire your work, with its fascinating focus on the complexities of women's leadership. 
> 
> I've taken backstory details from the VOY episode "Hope and Fear," and as you'll see, I lifted some lines wholesale from your original story.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

"I do not believe in using women in combat, because females are too fierce" -- **Margaret Mead**

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

The Interplanetary Association of Astro-Sciences is holding its bi-annual conference on Mars this year. You suspected that your captain would be interested, and you are not mistaken.

"I will ask Commander Seven to choose a team for the Mars conference," Captain G'let says during the morning briefing. 

She waits for your nod before continuing, "Admiral Janeway's work is cutting-edge, and supposedly she's going to give a preview of her latest spatial mechanics results. They could affect our final launch calculations, so I don't want to have to wait for the official publication."

"Won't the presentations be vid-streamed?" Lieutenant Haverford asks; his dislike of academic conferences is well known.

"Seventy-two-hour delay," the Captain replies. "Which isn't a problem in itself; we can certainly wait that long. But half the funding approval board will be there. I want our physical presence noted. Seven, how is that grant proposal coming?"

"It will be ready for your review at 1100 hours, Captain," you say. In truth, you completed the draft two days ago, but you have learned that your colleagues do not always appreciate it when you finish your work far ahead of deadlines they often struggle to meet. 

"Good. Let me know when you've chosen your Mars away team."

The captain does not suggest that you talk to Janeway to get additional information. She is the only person on the crew of the _Borealis_ who knows that you and the Admiral are no longer in contact.

After the briefing, the captain catches up with you in the corridor. She is very different from Janeway, though no less focused. "A trip to Mars will seem like a short hop compared to the distances we'll cover once _Borealis_ gets into deep space, won't it?" she says. 

You know that she cannot wait for the start of the deep space mission in three months, and you understand her eagerness -- even if you have realized that you don't fully share it. 

"Commander." The captain's voice has turned serious, and though her features are obscured by the breathing mask that Zaranites require on M-class planets, you can tell that she is concerned. Her large, ordinarily-smooth forehead is furrowed. "Seven. You're all right with this Mars trip?"

"Of course, Captain," you reply. And you are. You will attend the astro-science conference on Mars because astrometrics is your specialty, and it would be. . .inefficient to allow personal feelings to stand in the way of learning about the latest advances in spatial mechanics.

You choose the word -- "inefficient" -- with no little sense of irony, for you rarely use that Borg term now. You have been out of the Collective for over nine earth years (an inexact measure of time, of course) and "efficiency" is no longer your personal Prime Directive.

Nevertheless, it is a comfort, occasionally, to remind yourself of that calm time when emotions were irrelevant to you. 

So, you will go to Mars because your attendance is professionally efficient and necessary. The presence of Admiral Janeway will not deter you. 

Or entice you.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You have listened to two useful and one less-useful panels and have had productive conversations with two members of the grants-approval board when the time arrives for Admiral Janeway's widely-anticipated presentation on deep-spatial stress anomalies.

The room is crowded, for the admiral is still a star attraction even after five years back in the Alpha Quadrant. You take a seat in the back; your Borg aural enhancements will allow you to hear clearly no matter where you are, and as always, you prefer to maintain a low profile in public. 

When the talk is over -- it was excellent and well-supported with data; you expected no less from her -- you are about to slip quietly away when you see that one of the well-wishers who has approached Janeway is none other than Lieutenant B'Elanna Torres. Lieutenant _Commander_ Torres now, as you well know. It gives you a small bit of human satisfaction that you now outrank her.

You also admit to a certain degree of human curiosity.

It is easy for you to stay out of sight as you watch the admiral and the lieutenant leave the conference room and head to the hotel restaurant, and it is equally easy for you to take a seat in the bar, which is around the corner from the main dining room. 

"Aldebaran whiskey. Neat," you say to the bartender, and then you sit back to listen.

Once again, you appreciate the aural consequences of Borg technology. You hear Janeway order Andorian wine while Torres, pregnant again, settles for non-alcoholic synthehol. They talk about Torres's children and Tom Paris's unhappiness with his desk job; they talk about Torres's future career plans and new engine design and. . .

"I want you to try calling me Kathryn," the Admiral says suddenly, her voice low and intense. "I know it'll feel strange, but --"

You know that voice. You know the effect it had on you and dozens of other crew, making you feel special, different. Making you feel that Captain Janeway was interested in you -- _you_ , and not the scientist or the crew member or the representative of the Borg. Not some reclamation project, but _you_. It was that focus that gave you your first inkling of what it really meant to be "human" and to be "individual," because you believed she saw those things in you.

You would like still to believe it. 

"I have discretion over this," Janeway is continuing. "You mean more to me personally than your rank does."

You have heard this sort of thing from her yourself, and you do not want to listen as she says it to Torres. You signal for your check and are just about to activate the chip for your personal account when you hear your own name.

"Do you know how Seven's managing?" It's Torres, being inquisitive, and you change your mind about leaving. "Another," you tell the bartender, and he has time to pour and serve it before Janeway answers.

"I. . .I should," the admiral says, sounding uncertain for the first time that evening. "A little while after we got home, I told her that she needed to see things on her own, meet some friends, stop relying on me. I didn't mean to be so. . .harsh, or push her away completely. We haven't had a significant conversation since then."

No. No, you haven't.

You do yet another uncharacteristic thing in an evening that has been full of uncharacteristic things. You down the entire shot of Aldebaran whiskey in a single gulp.

Then you settle your account and walk away.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

You have been back on Earth for two busy weeks when Captain G'let summons you to her office. It looks very much like her ready room on the _Borealis_ ; the only difference is that here she has a window instead of a viewport, and it shows puffy white clouds instead of stars.

"Captain," you say once you are standing before her desk.

"Seven." She does not ask you to sit down, but rises and comes to stand beside you with a padd in her hand. "These are the latest engine specs from the Fleet propulsion labs," she says. "This one looks like just what we need, but apparently it's still at the prototype stage. But I notice that the chief engineer is Lieutenant Commander Torres. I want you to talk to her, get her to agree to tell our chief engineer how we can adapt these new developments to the _Borealis_."

"There are many testing protocols to fulfill before the new engines will be approved," you observe.

"Too right there are. That's why I want you to talk to Torres. Find out if she thinks there are any serious problems to straighten out, and then see if she'll help out an old _Voyager_ compatriot with a little advance assistance. Just so we can get a jump on the improvements." 

You do not think you have changed your expression or body language, but you must have stiffened, for the captain turns her head toward you and makes the guttural sound that serves the Zaranites as laughter. 

"Seven, relax. Believe me, I'm not planning to ask you to smuggle untested engines onto the ship. You're not in the DQ anymore; we don't have to break regulations and take chances out of desperation. I just want a bit of . . .what do humans say? 'A leg up' in getting the _Borealis_ to be the best ship out there."

You weren't afraid that the captain was asking you to break regulations, though you are certain that she, like Captain Janeway before her, will do so when circumstances warrant. No, your reluctance is personal: though your relationship with Torres has improved over the years, you have never felt comfortable with her. And you feel even less comfortable after having seen her and Janeway together on Mars.

Still, you are an officer and a professional, and you put any personal tension aside. 

"I will speak to Lieutenant Commander Torres," you tell your captain.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Torres, the sleeves of her maternity uniform pushed above her elbows, is clearly surprised when you appear in her lab. 

"Seven?" she says, not even trying to mask her incredulity. "What are you doing here? I'd heard you've been spending a lot of time in space."

"My next mission is due to depart in ten weeks," you say. "I have come to talk with you about the new trilithium engine developments."

Torres grins. "Still as opposed to small talk as ever, I see. Engine developments? Have you transferred to Engineering, then?"

"No." You are finding this meeting more awkward than you expected. Better just to focus on business and not on the fact that you would very much like to ask her how she spent the rest of her evening on Mars with Admiral Janeway. "I am inquiring on behalf of my captain. . ."

You go on to explain the situation, and Torres listens as she continues to monitor her datastream and enter new programming details. She has always been over-energetic, trying too many tasks at once. The human brain is not really equipped for such distraction; in fact, the ability for efficient multi-tasking is one of the things you miss most about the Collective.

You say none of this to Lieutenant Commander Torres, of course. You merely thank her when she agrees to meet with your chief engineer and then begin to say goodbye.

You are unprepared for Torres's response. "Are you in a hurry, Seven?" she asks. "Or do you have time for a cup of coffee?"

Such invitation is unprecedented from her, and for a moment, you are quite speechless. You fully intend to refuse, until it occurs to you that perhaps Torres wants to talk about Admiral Janeway.

Part of you wants to put Janeway out of your mind completely.

An apparently larger part of you does not.

"I do not consume caffeinated beverages," you tell Torres. "But I would not be averse to some sparking protein water."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

She takes you to a back booth in the building's staff canteen, and when you are both seated across from each other -- you with your protein water and Torres with herbal tea -- it occurs to you that Torres probably sat in a very similar configuration when she'd been in the restaurant on Mars.

But this is not Mars. And you are not Admiral Janeway.

"We have not been in the habit of conducting personal chats," you say by way of opener. Let her laugh at your "Borg" directness if she likes; you have found that appearing still to lack human social skills is often a useful conversational tool.

Torres sips her tea. "True enough," she says. "But I've been thinking a lot about _Voyager_ lately." She quirks a small smile. "You know I did tell you once that you and I could be outcasts on Earth together. So I thought it might be good to catch up." 

"The way you caught up with Admiral Janeway on Mars?"

Torres's head jerks up in shock. "How did you. . .? Have you been talking to Janeway?"

"No. Someone saw you together at the astro-science conference." A fact.

"Oh. Yes, I did see the Admiral, and you're right, that’s one of the things that got me thinking. I -- " She takes a breath and fixes you with her fierce Klingon gaze, as if to show you that you are not the only person who can be direct.

"She mentioned you," Torres says. "I think she regrets that she hasn't seen much of you for the last few years."

You say nothing.

"It's none of my business, Seven, but I hate to think of you two as estranged. You meant a lot to each other on _Voyager_."

Yes. You did.

"We are not estranged," you say finally. "Not really. Once we returned to Earth, she told me that I needed to be more independent. Learn to live on my own. I concluded that she was correct. That is all."

"Is it? She was so invested in you; you mattered so much to her. You still do."

"I was an important project to her, yes," you say, and hope you have succeeded in keeping any emotion from your voice. There is nothing to be emotional about. 

"Oh, Seven." Torres rolls her eyes and leans as close over the table as her enlarged stomach will allow. "You were more than a 'project' to her, and you know it."

"A mentee?" you suggest. "A surrogate daughter?" 

Torres barks a laugh. "Yes, of course, both those things. And more, Seven. You know there was more. Everyone on the ship could sense it. Oh, it was all tied up in complicated ways. . .mother, daughter, commander, sister, lover. Or at least potential lover. It was there, the lover part. You can't deny it."

You close your eyes briefly, and in that moment, you are taken back to the Delta Quadrant, several months after your removal from the Collective. You and the captain had been captured by the alien Arturis and confined in his ship.

You had somehow let Janeway see that you feared Voyager's return to the Alpha Quadrant. Feared being a single Borg among billions of human "individuals." 

She tried to convince you otherwise even as you both plotted your escape from the brig of the _Dauntless_. She talked to you of Earth, of home, of self, and even as she worked hard to show you of the strength of some of her feelings, you knew that she was working even harder to conceal others.

As she stood close to you, trying to modify your cranial implant so that you could walk through the brig's forcefield, she told you that you were important to her.

She also told you that as your captain, she could not always be your friend. 

But she had not reckoned with your Borg senses. Underneath the sweat and fear and the unique scent of _her_ , you had smelled something else -- arousal.

"That was all a long time ago," you say to Lieutenant Commander Torres. The _Dauntless_ , Arturis, even _Voyager_. . .how distant it all seems now, like something that happened to another person entirely.

"Maybe," Torres says. "Sure." She no longer seems to wish to talk. Finishing her tea, she stands, her movements smooth and quick despite her changed center of gravity. "I should get back. It's been great to see you. Just tell your CE to comm me."

"I will," you say. "Thank you."

Torres turns away, but then, as you sense she will, she turns back.

"Look. About Janeway. I'm not suggesting you ask her out on a date or anything. Just talk to her. All right? Close it, Seven. You need to close it. So does she."

You watch as she strides purposefully from the room, and you think about "closing" things with Admiral Janeway.

You think of your last meeting with her, not long after you had split up with Chakotay. Janeway had indeed, as she'd recounted to Torres, told you that you should "practice your independence" and "find new friends." But that was not the entire story.

You had met her at a Starfleet holo-gym for a scheduled game of Velocity. You'd been playing together twice a week, and your matches were both exactly as they had been on _Voyager_ and nothing like they'd been. The intense competition, yes, and the need to best one another, and the sense that so much more was at stake than a mere game -- these things remained unchanged.

But what was different was that the scent of the admiral's arousal was stronger than ever, and it was matched by your own.

And what was different, of course, was that you were on Earth.

This particular game had been close and fast, until a dive after one of the scoring disks led to a collision that left both of you on the floor, breathless and sweaty, your limbs tangled. . .and your mouths suddenly joined. Somehow, you felt your hands sliding under the captain's jersey as her knee slipped between your legs. The unexpected surge of pleasure robbed you of any consciousness beyond sensation.

Then as quickly as it had begun, the moment ended. The admiral rolled off of you and pushed away, her breath rasping harshly against the quiet of the room.

Still flat on the floor, you watched her pull herself to a sitting position and wrap her arms around her knees. She did not look at you as she asked, "Are you angry, Seven? Upset?"

"No," you said. "Neither."

"Then I won't apologize." 

The silence lengthened as you studied the curve of her back. When she spoke again, her voice was meditative, rueful.

"I've wanted to do that for a long time, you know. Well, not crash into you on a Velocity court, of course. But kiss you. Touch you. For _that_ , for those thoughts, I do apologize. It was inappropriate. I was your commanding officer, and you were in a particularly vulnerable position."

"You are not my commanding officer now," you replied, sitting up.

"Not at the moment, no." 

But fraternization would still be inappropriate. You knew that, as did she. But neither of you said it.

"I hope to go back into space soon," you told her. "A short mission or two to start." 

You were not sure even then what you wanted to convey. That you had no expectations of her, perhaps. That you could be discreet. That you were not trying to cling to her. You don't know.

"That's good. You can start to develop your own career, work on your independence."

"My independence from you?" You remember that you'd felt both relieved and sorry that she did not ask you to stay on Earth.

"Live your life, Seven," she said, hauling herself to her feet and reaching out to give you a hand up. "Take some time for yourself. Find out what you really want. Take some chances." She smiled then, the skin around her eyes crinkling attractively. "But not reckless ones. I want you in one piece when you get back, understand me?"

By the time you left the gym together, she was brisk and professional once more, and you realized with frustration that you did not know how to interpret this encounter. Was she suggesting that you might, some day, have a future together? Or was she telling you that things between you would remain as complicated -- and unchangeable -- as ever?

When you returned from your first short space mission, you fully intended to call on her.

But somehow, you didn't. And then time passed, and you went on another mission, and you had a brief romantic liaison with a woman on your science team, and you think of Janeway often, and now you're facing five years in deep space, and you still haven't called her.

You wonder what the admiral is doing now, whether she would be free if you visited.

You think about her lips against yours, and the press of her breasts, and the many things that she both is and is not to you.

Sometimes you wish you both were were back on _Voyager_.

There is a bustle in the canteen now, as beta shift begins to arrive. You put your empty glass into the recycler and head back to your office in the dock building next to your new ship. 

Captain G'let will be expecting your report.


End file.
